The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1887-08-11

with his fortune. By his fathers last test
ament the choice of adding TO his two sis
| ters' dover was distinctly left in his own
hands. II they married in defiance OF his
wishes they had no right to expect an e1-
ira farthing. 1t is as much yours as II you
had been his very own child. Now, don't
let this discovery, which need travel no
farther than ourselves, trouble you"
A very easy Injunction that, but one
totally impracticable, as so many more
given by outsiders 10 mental and physical
patients. Shocked and distressed one mo-
! ment, indignant at the long deception prac-
ticed on her, angry with him who had ini-
| tisted it, the next blaming herself poign-
antly for daring to think i'll of her imagined
| father, her unquestiOnable benefsctor,
Honoria drove back to Dernside in whirl
of emotion, that made her pretext or over
fatigue no mere excuse for not joining the
| party downstairs at dinner, or after on the
moon-lIt lawn.
'My head does ache So" she said to anx-
| ious Mrs Crosbie, who fastened to her, Il
am best alone"
''But We are all so sorry" answered her
friend-"be better; quite yourself to-mor-
row, dear. Hubert Grahame said how pale
you looked when he passed you in the ave-
nue.. He-we shall all miss you So"
Another curious pang shot through the
girl at this. The Hubert Grahame that
Mrs. Crosbie spoke Of was young sur
geon, a good friend to Jack Crosbie, who
he'd lately gone up to the London hospitals,
and had thence written few weeks before
to his mother:
''Grahame is capital fellow. He has
kept me out of scrapes no end. He's been
@o1-i Il HI I rn
poorish, and he's hipped now and done Up
with overwork, so l want you to ask him to
Dernside for good long while"
To Dernside, accordingly, the young man
had come, surprised when it was the Hall
and not the Rectory, where he was to be
located, and treating Miss Wentworth,
when he met her, with reserved courtesy,
which she had fancied due to shyness, and
had taken pleasure in breaking down by
frank kindness peculiarly her own.
That was dangerous experiment At
times, Hubert Grahame fell under the fas-
cinations of Honoria's charming manners;
at others he would keep aloof, marking by
some few little words, perhaps, the differ
ence between him, a young unpropertied
professional man, and her, the owner of
Dernside Whether he cared for her as
(aIas, poor rich girlD she grew to care for
him, she hardly knew; now in her new
dilemma she tried to persuade herself his
liking was only that of a friend; then, what
she had to do would not hurt HIM as it must
hurt her.
For, while she lay awake that night, and
through the next day when she kept to her
own rooms, Honoria found what lay before
her. in justice to her so-called fathers kim
dred, in justice to herself
Those women, fighting and fencing
through the world for their children's sake,
should find rest and relief at last. She
must take her turn at Iife's shadier side
now. Ease was delightful, wealth was
natural to her, but she must have done with
these. And should she (there lay the sting
that made her shudder so,) must she have
done with something else, new to her hopes,
sweeter than both! Would that, too, follow
in the track of all her other richest
Fair and slender and gt-lish as Honoria
seemed, there was plenty OF courage in her
composition. The second morning after
that Transforming mystery had burst on
her she wrote two letters-One to Mr.. Dean,
the other to Geraldine Corbette," the sis
ter whose entreaties Mr.. Wentworth had
answered in the negative''-then, with
sketching- block in hand, sho went forth
from the house, breeding and yet desiring
to face the hardest 2 zee Of work necessity
forced on her.
The younger Crosbies were playing on
the lawn, clamoring loudly that they were
so glad that she had come out again.
Swinging pair of them in a hammock
stood Hubert Grahame, watching her, she
knew, as she passed through the garden,
down the foot-path to the gray wall by the
Hxrho hn off NJ O1ri h.
follow her, as he so often did, No: the
young man was turning indoors, with
sign and few words to his hostess, which
he felt impelled then and there to utter.
''My holiday ought to be up, Mrs. Cros-
bic / must be leaving you directly"
To which the lady, covertly amused, for
she fancied she read through the young
peoples secret, and wished her rich girl
friend. no better husband than this young
man, poor though he was, answered de-
murely:
well, well, you're not in such hurry.
are you, that you can not spare a
little while TO shelter Hiss Wentworth
from sunstroke! Here''-catching up q
Japanese umbrella-"hold this over her.
pray, while she paints, and we will talk
about your departure at lunch time" So.
not to be churlish, Mr.. Grahame was forcea
to act on her suggeS ton.
But he went reluctantly, such a mixture
of feelings seething within him as made
him strangely uncompaniouable, even when
he reached the spot where the artist
worked; and she, embarrassed more sorely
than he suspected, was very silent, too
For minutes, that seemed an hour to both,
she sedulously painted on at the view be-
fore them-the river, the woods, her home.
standing in stately comfort among clusters
of beech and pine-then, said he, with q
curious hard ring in his voice:
''How is it, MISS Wentworth, that you,
having the substance of these good things.
desire the shadow alsoi Is not the better
part enough for your
Now was her opportunity, but she
trembled as she seized it. Drawing back
near him, but standing so that he could not
see her face, she answered:
~ am wanting the shadow, Mr.. Grahame
DecsSse"-for an instant she faltered-"be-
cause the substance, as you call it, is mine
no longer"
He looked towards her N mute astonish-
meht, inclined to spring over the interven-
| ing barrier, to see if her features told him
what she meant more plainly than her
| words.
"H ours no longer" ne repeated, blankly.
| ''Miss Wentworth, 1 don't understand you.
Who can take Dernside from your
mo one, perhaps" she answered, her
voice calm, though her heart beat fast.
''But can PIT it from me. Mr.. Grahame,
you shall be the first to know what, in
| day or two, the whole place will be wonder
| ing over. Mr.. Wentworth was not my
father. am only an interloper at Dern-
side. His closest kindred ought to be here
instead of me. And here q little while,
| trust, will see them. / will not, l can not
keep the place, nor my-my-nor his money